To the Victor
by Queen Boadicea
Summary: Spoilers for season 6 of BtVS and season 3 of AtS: This is pt. 3 of the "Humanity" trilogy.
1. The Musings of Demons

Title: To the Victor (pt. 3 of the "Humanity trilogy)

Author: Queen Boadicea

Email: queenboadiceaoftheiceni@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: This belongs to the great and powerful Joss and the usual gang of idi…uh, geniuses

Pairing: B/A, W/T, An/X

Distribution: 

Feedback: Do your worst—it can't compare to my worst ;)

Notes: Spoilers for BtVS up to season six, episode "Wrecked" and spoilers for A:tS up to season three, episode "Dad". In my AU, no one lost his memory in "Tabula Rasa"

More notes: The song Lorne sings to Connor is by Billy Joel, "Lullaby (Goodnight My Angel)" from his album River of Dreams

[thoughts]

Angel sat quietly in his darkened room. He was staring, in unblinking fascination, at the bottle that stood on top of his bedroom end table. The emerald liquid inside seemed to glow faintly in the dim light. Near it lay the letter that had accompanied the plain wooden box that had held the bottle of fluid.

"Angel: I love you. Come back to me. Buffy"

It was a simple enough note. That was why he distrusted it. He knew Buffy. She would have called or come to see him in person the way she had weeks ago. 

He recalled how distraught she had been, claiming that Spike had been able to hit her, demanding to know from Wesley what had gone wrong with her resurrection. She had insisted that they all pretend she'd been there for weeks. It was all part of an elaborate plan to make Spike believe that the Buffy he'd been able to attack had actually been a golem, a magical creature conjured up by Willow. 

He had been amazed at Willow's growing power. It seemed as if nothing magical lay outside her grasp. But neither the wicca nor Wesley had been able to come up with an explanation for Buffy's newfound vulnerability to Spike. The only solution they'd found had been a binding spell to keep Spike from hurting her again.

Then there'd been that inexplicable phone call out of the blue. Angel had been so startled to hear Buffy inquire about the properties of Mohra blood that he'd failed to ask why she was interested. For an anxious moment, he'd wondered if she'd somehow remembered the forgotten day—the day The Powers That Be had seen fit to erase from everyone's memory but his own.

For one magical day, he'd been human. Human—and in Buffy's arms. For days afterwards, he'd had intense dreams, reliving the blissful hours that had been spent with his beloved. The attempt to be cool and rational at his kitchen table, the fierce lovemaking that had followed it, leaving them both sated and exhausted. He'd woken from those dreams with raging hard-ons and an ache in his heart that he'd ruthlessly hidden from everyone around him. That phone call about the Mohra had rattled him more than he'd let on.

Now there was a bottle of Mohra blood on his nightstand. But if Buffy hadn't sent it, who had? It could be a present from an enemy, someone who wanted to trick him with poison. He'd experienced the blood's effects only that once. If this was some other substance, who knew what kind of effect it might have on him? Of course, he could always call and ask if she'd sent the note without mentioning the blood. If she said she'd sent it, he could patiently explain why he couldn't take advantage of such a gift. If she hadn't, then he'd know it was a trap.

But what if this was exactly what it appeared to be? The end result would be the same. He'd be human, with human weakness and unable to fight the powers of darkness as effectively. That had been proven to him the second time he'd fought the Mohra. He'd gotten his ass royally kicked and Buffy had had to rescue him. He'd gone back to the Oracles and insisted they remove his humanity. He'd done it to protect Buffy.

Only to have her die anyway.

He'd often wondered if he were being punished somehow for turning his back on his friends, for leaving her in the first place. He'd castigated himself over and over, thinking that if he'd only been there she wouldn't have died. Another, colder, more rational, part of himself whispered that she was the Slayer. She would have died young in any case. That was what eventually happened to all Slayers. 

Then his sacrifice was for nothing. He could have stayed human and remained with her for the little time she had left. What difference could it have made? It was during those moments that the temptation to use the gift presented to him was strongest. He resisted it—again—and deliberately replaced the bottle in the drawer.

"Buffy, why can't I have an allowance? I'm fifteen years old, for God's sake. I want some spending money of my own!" 

Buffy sighed, feeling deeply put-upon. This was a conversation she was getting tired of having. Ever since Melissa—the vampire-turned-human—had left them all that money, Dawn had been pestering her for her share. But Buffy had put her foot down. Mostly. "Dawn, I don't want you to go crazy spending this cash. I know it seems like a lot to you but $30,000 can go fast. I'm saving it for college. For me and you," she added hastily. 

Dawn huffed, "What makes you think I'm going to college? Spike says schools are factories for spewing out mindless little automatons." 

"Quoting Spike on anything isn't going to convince me to give you money, Dawn. Besides, what do you need to spend it on that's so important, anyway? More tattoos?" she shot back.

Dawn appealed to Willow and Tara as the two came downstairs. "Willow, don't you think I should get an allowance?" 

Willow threw up her hands in self-defense. "Hey, don't get me involved in your little family squabble. Especially if it involves money." 

Dawn flounced over to a sofa. "Great. Maybe I should get a job."

"You're too young," all three women chorused at once. "You're a minor, Dawn. You can't get a job—not doing anything legitimate, anyway," Tara pointed out. 

A speculative gleam appeared in the teenager's eye. "Don't even think of taking up a life of crime, Dawn," Buffy glared. "You get into enough trouble as it is." Buffy put on a light jacket and made sure she had enough stakes. Not for the first time, she wished she had a coat with numerous inside pockets. It would be handy to have someplace to carry weapons. 

[Maybe a long coat like Spike's would do the trick. It seemed to have a lot of ….] She pulled herself back from that thought. Couldn't she go a day without thinking or talking about Spike and his questionable behavior? Then a new thought occurred to her.

She walked over to Willow, out of earshot of Dawn. "Willow, remember that avoidance spell you put on the golem? Could you do it for me?" 

Willow nodded, aware of Buffy's unspoken anxiety. "No problem. It's only good for a few days, though. You'll have to get it renewed every three days or so to keep it working." 

Buffy gave a grateful sigh. "Good enough. I want to keep out of Spike's clutches—literally."

The spell was short and ridiculously easy. It simply caused Spike to go in circles, rebounding off an invisible, intangible barrier surrounding Buffy. Every time he tried to head in her direction, he'd wind up wherever she wasn't. He wouldn't even suspect that he was under a spell. He'd only be aware that he couldn't find her. With her mind set at ease in this matter, Buffy sauntered out to patrol the neighborhood.

As it turned out, Spike wasn't looking for Buffy. She wasn't far from his thoughts, though. Ever since the box with the Mohra blood had been delivered to him, he'd been debating the pros and cons of becoming human. If he was human, Buffy wouldn't be able to throw up the de-invite spell to keep him out of her home. He could move about in daylight without that damn pesky blanket. 

But what would he do as a human? He realized with a considerable amount of self-disgust that he really wasn't good for anything as a mortal. As a badass vampire, he'd proven his usefulness to Buffy and her little gang of Slayerettes on innumerable occasions. But as a human? What would he do? It wasn't as if he could get a job. He was lacking all necessary requirements. He had no I.D., no driver's license, no credit cards, no birth certificate, any of the things that human beings needed to exist in the modern world. With the money that the ex-vampire bint had left him, he might be able to pay certain shady characters for fake documents. But then what? 

Spike tucked the vial away in a strongbox he kept carefully hidden in his crypt. He had plenty of time to make up his mind about this. He could wait. Time to go on patrol, see if he could find the Slayer of his dreams. Maybe meeting her again might make up his mind about the whole humanity question.

But he couldn't lay hold of her at all. He made the round of the usual places but there was no sign of her. Sod it all! She was avoiding him again, he was sure of it. At this rate, why should he become human? That was no guarantee she'd want or love him. He snarled in frustration and decided to head further east. Maybe she was looking through Dracula's old haunting grounds.

Buffy was having a quiet night of it. She'd never admit it either to the others or Spike [Oh great. You went, what, ten minutes without thinking about the peroxide menace?], but things were boring without demon ass to kick. Maybe there was a prophecy brewing about some major disaster or other and she was missing it without Giles' input to let her know. Perhaps she should call Wesley in L.A. and see if he'd read of any demonic uprising she should know about. But then she might have to talk to Angel….. 

She shook herself. Why should she be afraid of speaking to Angel? They weren't enemies, they should be able to talk to each other like grownups. She'd loved him—no, if she was honest, she loved him still. A one-night stand with Spike hadn't changed that. That's why she needed to stay away from Angel. Encounters with him after his leaving Sunnydale had only proved hard on them both.

She halted, surprised at where she found herself. Unconsciously she'd wound up in front of Angel's mansion. She hesitated before going in. It could do no good to stir up old memories like this. [Come on, what harm could it do?] She took a deep breath and pushed at the door.

Inside it appeared much as it had before Angel left. There was little furniture and it had the dusty feel of someplace that had been long abandoned. She wandered over to the bed and plopped down on it, raising a cloud of dust from the stripped mattress. Unbidden, memories of her night of lovemaking with Angel rose up in her mind. She'd been so eager, so inexperienced, and she'd wanted him so badly. She remembered how he'd pulled away, just for a moment, as if reluctant to take advantage of her.

__

"Buffy, maybe we shouldn't."

But she'd overridden his protest, unwilling to let him go for even a moment. The night had been full of danger, like many of their nights together. It'd also been her 17th birthday. Somehow it had seemed right to finish it in the arms of the man she loved. She couldn't forget it—despite the horrific consequences.

Buffy stretched out on the mattress. God, she felt weary to the bone. The fatigue, the strain that had been tugging at her, only slightly lifted when she'd gone to L.A. such a very short time ago, fell on her at once. It would be good to sleep.

She closed her eyes, telling herself it would be just for a few minutes.

Angel juggled Connor in his arms, cooing softly at him. The baby had his mother's blue eyes, though Cordelia had told him they might darken as the boy grew older. He hoped not. Darla and he hadn't had the sunniest history together, but they'd managed to bring forth into the world something miraculous. He wanted just the smallest reminder of her stamped on his son.

"Angel, how about letting me hold him for a moment? I promise I won't drop him—more than once." Cordelia grinned and batted her eyes innocently when Angel's head shot up to glare at her. "Geez, Angel, learn to take a joke already. I hope this kid hasn't inherited your sense of humor." 

Angel handed the baby over to her gingerly. "Mind his head, Cordelia." 

Cordelia rolled her eyes and rested Connor's head against her left shoulder. "It's okay, Angel. I think I can manage. I'm the one with the boobs, remember?" She glanced at the clock and frowned. "How come Wesley and Gunn aren't back yet? It's been three hours since they went after those sleigh boggles. I thought he said they were minor spirits." 

"That's sleigh beggies, Cordy, and just because they're minor doesn't mean they're harmless. They're actually shape shifters. You can spot them…" 

"I know, by the feet turned backwards. I _was_ listening when Wesley described them."

Suddenly the phone rang, causing Cordelia to start. Angel hesitated, caught between snatching his son from her and getting the phone. When she waved him impatiently towards the office, he reluctantly pushed open the door and picked up the phone. "Angel Investigations, we help the…." 

"Angel, Gunn's been injured. One of the sleighs bit him. I'm driving him back right now." 

"I'll get out the bandages." Angel slammed down the receiver and raced back. "Cordelia…."

"I'm way ahead of you." Cordelia started briskly laying out medical supplies with one hand. They'd all become amateur medics in the course of their constant fight against evil.

Fred said, "What's up, guys?" 

Cordelia jumped and gave a tiny shriek. "God, Fred, heart attack much? You're as bad as Angel with that sneaking around." 

Fred gave one of her twitchy grins. "Sorry. When you've been on the run from demons trying to kill you for five years, Ah guess being stealthy becomes second nature." 

Cordelia patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "It's okay, Fred. I didn't mean to snap at you. We just heard bad news. Gunn's been hurt in a fight with some demons." 

The Host came down, toweling his head. "Did somebody mention demons? Oh god, it's not another attack, is it, because I just washed my hair." 

Just then, Wesley burst in with Gunn's limp weight dragging across his shoulder. Angel hefted up the big man easily and frowned, sniffing the air at the scent of blood.

"He's not bleeding badly and the bite didn't seem that serious. But on the way back here, he suddenly slumped forward in the seat unconscious." 

"I thought you said these things weren't that dangerous," Cordelia accused. 

"Not in their regular form, no, but one of the sleighs transformed itself into a kind of demon I've never seen before, one with enormous fangs that it used to bite Gunn. It think it must have injected Gunn with some kind of venom."

"So why didn't you take him to a hospital?" 

Wesley shook his head as he started frantically flipping through demonic texts from his library. "I doubt a hospital would be qualified to handle this sort of emergency, Cordelia, not to mention the fact that Gunn doesn't carry any kind of hospital insurance." 

Angel gently deposited Gunn on the hotel lobby couch and lifted his shirt. The bite appeared to be small punctures, without tearing, but the wound was oozing an ugly blackish-green ichor with similar mottling spreading to the flesh beyond it. He sniffed again, wrinkling his nose at the foul odor arising from the bites. "It's poison, all right. Wesley, any luck with those books?"

"I'm looking up sleighs and going on from there." 

Cordelia handed Connor over to Fred and plopped herself down at the computer, calling out, "Mind describing the demon that slay ride…" 

"Sleigh beggie," both men shouted. 

"Right. Just describe the gross demony thing it turned into and I'll pull up a search engine on it."

"It had a three-foot-long snake-like neck with glowing greenish eyes, a low long body like a dachsund's with grayish fur on its back and eight legs." 

Cordelia gave a mock shudder. "Ewwwww. Sounds like the result of a mating between a tarantula and a rattlesnake. Wonder who paid for _that_ wedding. Got it!" she shouted triumphantly moments later. "It's called a Groffish. 'It makes up for its slowness in battle by venom that first paralyzes and then kills its prey. Then it can waddle up to it and eat it at leisure.' " She looked up from the screen with an uncharacteristically sober look. "It says there's no known antidote." 

"Nonsense," Angel snapped. "There's always an antidote."

"Duh! No doubt. This text just says there's no _known_ antidote." 

Wesley put down the book he was holding and picked up another one. "Well, we'll just have to find one, won't we? Lorne, do you have any ideas?" 

The Host folded up the towel neatly and laid it aside. "Not a one, babe. Never heard of these things before."

It was several minutes later with the five of them looking through the books and Angel checking on Gunn periodically. Since he'd been brought in, Gunn hadn't moved or spoken. His limbs were slowly becoming more and more rigid and the discoloration from his wound was spreading. Angel assured them he could still detect Gunn's heartbeat though it was imperceptibly slowing moment by moment. 

Wesley tiredly rubbed at this eyes. He hadn't changed his dirty clothes since he'd returned and every moment he paused the aches from the battle would wake up and make themselves felt. Fred noticed his fatigue and murmured, "Wesley, maybe you should take it easy. We can keep looking while you check on Gunn."

The former Watcher shook his head wearily. "No, I'm best qualified to know what we should look for. Why don't you check on him?" 

Angel stood up abruptly. "All right. I've got something that might cure him." The others gaped at him. 

Cordelia rose with the beginnings of anger showing on her face. "You've got something that might cure Gunn and you let us all waste time like this? What are you, a complete moron?" 

Angel stood his ground as she stalked up to him in full Queen C mode. "I didn't want to risk it because I didn't know whether it was a cure or more poison. But with Gunn fading away, we're really out of options." 

Cordelia frowned as Wesley spoke. "Angel, what are you talking about?" Angel was silent a second longer and then told them about the Mohra blood.

The others watched as he poured a small amount into the bite wound. "How much do we need?" Fred whispered. 

The vampire remained motionless, his unwavering eyes on Gunn's still form. "I'm not sure…" 

Without warning, Gunn's eyes flew open and he gasped, taking in huge gulps of air. "Oh man, remind me to wear biteproof armor the next time we try a stunt like this."

"Gunn, you're alive! Thank heavens!" 

Fred smiled giddily as Cordelia hugged Gunn fiercely and then backed up in embarrassment. "Don't think that I was worried about you for a minute, you big lug!" 

Lorne smiled down at him. "Well, hello, Sunshine, welcome back to the world of the living." 

Gunn sat up gingerly on the couch, tugging at his torn clothes. "Damn, this sweater is a goner. And it was brand new, too." He glanced up at Wesley, slightly confused. "Hey, Wes, how'd we get back here so fast? Last I remember we were in the car and then…" He trailed off, looking around the hotel lobby. 

Wesley replied, "You were bitten by one of the demons and then you passed out. You were sinking fast under the venom's effects but Angel found a way to cure you." 

Gunn looked over at Angel who was standing impassively off to the side. "You did? Thanks, man."

Wesley walked over to Angel, staring at the vampire sternly. "Now perhaps you might like to explain how you got hold of demon blood and why you didn't mention having some in your possession." 

Cordelia's head shot up as something clicked. "Did you get some from that time you spent with Buffy?"

"There was a demon when Buffy was here? Ah don't remember that," Fred asked.

"No, this was before." 

"Before what? Before she died?" 

"Yeah, Gunn, but it was before Doyle died."

"Who's Doyle?" Fred felt herself becoming more baffled by the second. 

There was a moment of silence which Wesley rushed to fill. "He was my….predecessor. He was also the one who gave Cordelia her visions. I'm curious to hear this story, too, Angel. Care to enlighten those of us who aren't in the know?"

Angel recounted the story—how over two years ago a fight with a Mohra demon had made him human. He'd been with Buffy for a whole day but the terrible second encounter with the same demon had left him convinced that humanity was a luxury he simply couldn't afford, not when it might mean Buffy's life and the lives of others they'd sworn to protect. He explained about the mysterious package that had arrived in the mail just days earlier and how he'd suspected it might be some enemy trying to poison him.

"Whoa, hold up. You thought this might be poison and you gave it to me? You didn't think I was dying fast enough or something?" Gunn shot at him. 

Angel spoke sharply in self-defense. "Look, Gunn, as long as I thought there was a chance the others might be able to come up with a solution on their own, I didn't want to risk it. But you were dying and we were at the eleventh hour. What more harm could it have done?"

Gunn rubbed at his skin through the torn sweater and lifted it to stare at his now-unblemished flesh. "Guess you were right about that," he admitted grudgingly. "But now you know this stuff ain't poison, why don't you use it?" 

Angel paced agitatedly across the lobby floor. "Weren't you listening, Gunn? I can't fight the forces of darkness as a mere mortal."

Gunn scowled. "Look, the rest of us are mere mortals and we're doing just fine, thank you." 

Fred raised her eyebrows at him. "Ah wouldn't call nearly dying from a demon snakebite doing fine." 

Gunn waved impatiently. "Yeah, yeah, life's a bitch and then you die. But we do the best we can how we can and I think we've already proved that we can manage without your vampire self, Angel. So what's really holding you back?"

Angel glanced at Connor nestled securely in Fred's arms. "If I go back to Buffy now, I'd have some serious explaining to do about certain…changes in my life. She has enough problems of her own right now without added complications." 

Wesley sighed. "It's a baby, Angel. I don't think she'd be likely to hold a grudge against it."

Cordelia flung him a disbelieving look. "Fine, Wesley. Do you want to talk to Buffy and tell her how Angel screwed Darla six ways from Sunday and she gave birth to his child? Angel's right. That's not the sort of thing even an ex-girlfriend's going to take lying down."

Fred looked down at Connor and spoke up. "She's bound to find out about the baby sooner or later, rahght? So you might as well let her know and see if she wants to be a part of its life. Ah mean, if she's interested. She could be its mommy and then you could decide about being a regular human daddy. You could get to do all the things with the baby that you can't do now, like playing with it in the sunshine, taking it to the beach, attending PTA meetings and Little League games…"

"All right, Fred. I get the point. But Buffy has too much on her plate as it is, dealing with Spike, coping with that little sister of hers and patrolling the Hellmouth. I think of all of you as being Connor's family not an ex-girlfriend I only see whenever one of us is in trouble. Somehow I don't see her getting together with me and playing happy families with Connor. It just doesn't seem to be in the cards for us."

"Well, it certainly won't be if you keep hiding things from her and leaving her out of the loop. Last thing I'd want is some pissed-off superchick throwing down with me just 'cause I casually failed to mention having a baby," Gunn threw in. 

Lorne piped up, "I have to agree with Gunn on this one, Ange. This girl sounds like she's been through a lot. But if she can handle all that, why not see how she'll deal with this?"

Angel turned back and faced them all. "Listen, guys. This is my decision to make and I've already made it. I'll tell Buffy about Connor when the time comes but I'm not mentioning anything about the Mohra blood. Besides, we've all seen how it can be put to much better use than giving me back my humanity. You'll thank me for this the next time one of you gets some life-threatening injury and there's still plenty of blood around to help." He pulled Connor out of Fred's arms and brought him up to his room, closing the door softly behind him.

Cordelia plopped down on the couch next to Gunn. "Well, there goes another night at Angel Investigations. You'd think I'd get used to all the surprises thrown my way, but he just keeps pulling them on me like a freaky magician with an endless source of rabbits."

Wesley stretched, wincing at his aches and pains again. "Well, I think that's all for tonight. Perhaps we should all turn in. We'll have clearer heads tomorrow. And then…" 

"And then what? You heard the man. He's made up his mind. When have any of us ever been able to talk him out of any notion that sinks into that thick skull of his?" Gunn demanded. 

Wesley shrugged helplessly. "Maybe sleeping on this will help clear his head as well." The others appeared profoundly unconvinced. They cleaned up the mess in the lobby in silence.

Angel stood over Connor's crib as he inwardly debated the conversation he'd just had with the others. His jaw set stubbornly. He knew what he was doing. It was dangerous enough in his life as it was without having to worry about Buffy's safety as well. But words spoken from over two years ago floated into his mind.

__

"You know, it's a good thing I didn't fantasize about you turning human only about ten zillion times 'cause today would have been a real letdown."

He'd fantasized, too, though he hadn't ever told her. What would have been the good? He'd always thought it an impossibility. Now it seemed as if that dream lay within his grasp yet again. But how would he know the right thing to do? He straightened up abruptly. Lorne had told him to talk to Buffy. He _could_ tell the truth about the Mohra blood. But he knew what her answer would be. He remembered from that fateful day. She would want his humanity no matter what the cost. 

The question was, after all this time, what did _he_ want?

TBC


	2. We're Going to Los Angeles!

Buffy tossed uneasily on the mattress. Images, strange yet hauntingly familiar, swam behind her eyelids.

__

Buffy faced Angel squarely. "So how does the mature plan go? You call me, I call you, what?"

"We stay in touch. Just not….." 

"Literally. Funny." Angel stood in front of her, visibly restraining himself from touching her. Buffy blurted, "Okay, I'd better..." 

"Right. Remove the temptation." 

"So….we'll talk soon?" Her hand dropped lightly onto his. He lifted his hand, clutching her small fingers within his. Then he swept her up in his arms and they were kissing frantically, as if they wanted to steal the breath from each other's lungs. He banged her up against the refrigerator as her powerful legs wound around his waist. They fell together onto the table as he swept the tea things to the floor. Pinning her to the tabletop, he tried pulling off her sweater without breaking the kiss. Buffy yanked it off eagerly, throwing it away over her head. Her bra went the same way. He wasn't nearly so patient with his own clothes, ripping off his shirt so that the buttons flew in every direction. Suddenly they were chest to chest, skin to skin, and they stilled, looking into each other's eyes. He knew what she was feeling at that exact same moment.

She could feel his heart. It was beating madly against hers and she wound her arms tightly across his back, rearing up against him, as if she wanted to merge her heartbeat with his.

It wasn't like the first time. Then he'd been conscious of her inexperience, the wonder of being in her embrace at all causing him to hold back and treat her body like spun glass. Now he couldn't wait to be inside her, the frustration and loneliness they'd both felt apart from each other making them want to get as close as possible. He ducked his head and laved her nipples with his tongue, teasing them with his blunt teeth. She arched her back and laughed while still trying to tug off his pants. She reached down and undid the zipper and he gasped as she wound her fingers around his swollen member.

"Geez, Buffy," he panted. 

She raised her head and stared. "What is it?" 

"Well, I'm only human now, and you're a lot stronger than me. Just….take it easy, okay?" 

She gave him a mischievous grin. "Not on your life, lover." She stroked him a few times, enjoying the way he moaned and stiffened on top of her. 

He gave a mock growl, a soft echo of what his vampiric self would have been capable of. "Okay, you asked for it."

He kicked off his shoes, shimmied out of his trousers and kicked them out from under his feet. He began tugging ineffectually at her pants. "God, these things are so tight. How do you fight in them?" he groused. She laughed again, the bubbling giggle he'd grown to love, and unzipped them slowly, teasing him with more revealing sights of her flesh. Unable to wait, he pulled them ruthlessly down over her hips. They moved together into each other, without awkwardness or shame, careless of who might come down and see them.

The hard pounding of their lovemaking was too much for the little table. Unable to bear so much weight, it abruptly collapsed, spilling them both to the floor. Angel landed on top of Buffy, wringing an 'ooof' out of her as his larger weight crushed her onto the floor. He halted, appalled that he might have hurt her, but she locked her legs around his waist again and continued surging up into him. That inescapable rhythm had been enough to make him continue regardless of his misgivings and when she squeezed her muscles around his cock, he came deep inside her, gasping out her name. Buffy's climax followed his only moments later, and she buried her head in his shoulder, calling his name.

Buffy's eyes snapped open and she bolted up in bed, gasping and trembling. What the hell was that? That had never happened. She remembered that day like it was yesterday. She'd gone to Los Angeles to see her father and had made the mistake of dropping in unannounced at Angel's old office. She'd been furious with him when she'd found out he'd come to Sunnydale and spied on her without her knowledge. She had known he was there, of course. They could always sense the other's proximity even when ignorant of each other's presence. But in the heat of battle she'd dismissed the odd feeling lurking just outside her consciousness. To know that he'd been there and avoided her had raised a cold irrational rage inside her.

Now she wanted to dismiss the throbbing between her legs as being from a particularly vivid wet dream. But this didn't feel like a fantasy. It felt disturbingly real, as if Angel _had_ actually been human, at least for a little while. 

But if Angel had been human, how come she didn't remember it until now? Why did she have a memory of only having been there for five minutes and a dream of being in his arms for hours? Had the Three somehow returned and making her share Angel's dreams again? But how could she have memories about something that had never occurred for either of them?

She got out of the bed and left the mansion, carefully closing the door behind her. She was going to call him again and talk to him about the Mohra. No! She paused, trying to consider her options. He might lie to her over the phone. She briefly considered going to L.A. again. But she'd only just come from there and she didn't want to leave Dawn again unless she absolutely had to. 

She could always consult the scrying mirror and see what Angel was up to. She'd been reluctant to use it to spy on him, afraid it might grow into a habit she could easily abuse. Still….there was more to this dream than just an idle fantasy. 

She'd talk to Willow about this first. She wanted to consult someone magical about this decision before she made a move. Her mind made up, Buffy started to walk, then run, for home.

Buffy opened the door, looking around cautiously. The avoidance spell should keep Spike at a distance but she felt it best to make certain. Something told her the follically challenged vampire wouldn't take kindly to the idea of her seeing Angel again.

"Hey, Buffy, what's up? You have a good patrol?" Dawn was standing on the stairs holding a donut. 

Buffy smiled slightly. "Yeah, it was….okay. Quiet night. No major demon baddies afoot. Where's Willow?" 

Dawn smirked. "She and Tara are doing a 'spell' upstairs. They've got the 'DO NOT DISTURB' sign on the door." 

"Oh. Well, in that case, I'll turn in." Buffy started walking past Dawn and then hesitated. She drew a deep breath and blurted out, "Dawn, how would you feel about going to Los Angeles for the weekend? It's Martin Luther King Day on Monday, so we can make it a long weekend." 

Dawn's eyes widened. "That'd be great!" Then she reconsidered, all at once suspicious. "Wait a minute. Why?" 

"I want to see Angel about something important. And I think it's about time he met you." 

Dawn blinked. "But he's already…" She stopped as the realization hit her. "Oh. He doesn't know me, does he?" 

Buffy shook her head. "When I visited him and talked about you, he—he drew a complete blank. I guess the monks who created you and stuck us with all those memories only filled in the blanks for folks who were still in Sunnydale." 

Dawn thought a moment. "Can I go shopping in the malls?" 

Buffy grinned, glad that she was so easily swayed. "Sure. We both can go. It's been a while since I've been on a shopping binge."

"So, can I have an allowance? That way I can pick my own stuff." 

"Forget it, Dawn." 

"Buffy, come on! It's not fair. I need my own money!" 

"GOODNIGHT, DAWN."

Buffy shut the door on Dawn while the teenager was still protesting. She wedged the chair under the door again. Dawn rattled the knob and thumped the door in frustration. Buffy listened while her sister grumbled and complained all the way back to her room. 

She drew the scrying mirror out of her drawer and took another breath. [I don't want to watch him sleeping. I just want to know what kind of situation I'll be bringing Dawn into.] Satisfied with this rationalization, she peered into the mirror and thought of Angel. The mirror fogged over and quickly cleared.

There he was. Even after all this time, her breath still caught at the sight of him. He, Gunn and Wesley were engaged in battle with some demon she'd never seen before. She found herself surprised at how well he moved with the others. They really were a team. [Just like we used to be.] She found herself admiring Wesley's moves, too. He'd certainly changed a lot from the ineffectual whiner she'd known and dismissed when he was in Sunnydale.

The fight was quickly over and Angel pulled out a cellphone from an inside pocket. "Fred, hi. Yeah, we're just about finished here. We're all fine. I just wanted to know how Connor was."

Buffy frowned in puzzlement. Who was Connor?

Angel listened for a moment, his brows pulled together. "Really? Is that normal?" The voice at the other end talked on for quite a while. Angel appeared reluctantly satisfied with the answer he got. "Okay. How about Cordelia? She's resting? That's good. Make sure she stays down. We'll be home soon. See you." He clicked the phone shut. 

Wesley walked back with him to car while Gunn dragged the demon's body someplace less revealing. "How was Connor?" 

Angel spread his hands. "She said he seemed fidgety. He wouldn't sleep for a while." 

"Relax, Angel, he may just be colicky." 

Gunn sauntered up and jumped into the passenger seat. "Do babies still get colicky these days? I thought there was some more up-to-date term for it like SIDs or something."

Baby? BABY? What the hell? Buffy bent over the mirror and followed their journey back to the hotel. Angel strode in, asked about Connor and went up his room. She watched in mounting disbelief as he leaned over a crib, tenderly kissing the forehead of a tiny baby lying in it. 

She sat down on her bed with a thump. She could scarcely believe it. There was a baby, an actual baby there. She was certain there hadn't been one when she'd last visited. She'd only been there a couple of weeks but she was sure she would have noticed. And whose baby was it and why was the cradle in Angel's room? She chucked the mirror back into the drawer and began hurriedly packing for Los Angeles. As soon as she finished with that, she was going to call Angel and tell him about her plans.

Spike slouched back into his crypt mentally if not physically exhausted. Except for a couple of M'Fashnik demons, there'd been little or no activity on the Hellmouth. Maybe he could hunt up some of his poker buddies. They were always good for some amusement and news of any evil activities. He didn't need the cash, not with the $10,000 the ex-vampire had left him, but it was always good to keep his hand in. He didn't want his cheating skills to get rusty.

His eyes wandered unwillingly to the hole leading to the lower level. The vial of demon blood almost seemed to be calling out to him. It was at moments like this, when he was at his loneliest, that the pull of humanity seemed almost too much to bear. He missed the nights when Drusilla would hunt with him, when they would prowl the streets of whatever city they happened to be in, looking for human prey together. He even thought fondly of the times when he'd had with that Irish pillock Angelus and his slut of a sire Darla.

__

"I want us to be a family again, my William." How well he recalled the sibilant voice when Drusilla had come back to him that last time. She'd attempted to bring Angel back into the fold; by the still-healing burns on her face and neck, he'd gathered it hadn't been a raging success. But she'd hoped that with him at her side she could convince Angel otherwise.

Well, that had turned out to be one of her worse ideas—and not his brightest move. He'd tried to use his dark princess to coerce a confession of love out of Buffy. Much good _that_ had done. He'd ended up losing his current girlfriend, his ex and his would-be flame all in the same night. Way to go, Spike.

He looked at the ladder and jerked his head away again. [Stop thinking about it!] No, it wouldn't do any good to become human. He'd become a target for his enemies. They'd love to get a chance to kill him if he became a pitifully weak mortal. It would be the perfect opportunity for them.

[Then why don't you get rid of the bottle? Just pour it out on the ground where you can't use it—you're thinking about it, Spike, admit it. Being human with Buffy, sharing time with her, being a real part of her life instead of skulking about on the fringes, seeing her in the daylight where she can't avoid you.] His mind was chasing the question around in his head in circles, weighing the pros and cons endlessly. And where was Buffy? She was the only reason he'd even consider becoming mortal again. He was beginning to wonder if she was even worth it.

He heard a small knock and looked up to see Dawn poking her head inside the door. "Spike? Are you in there?" 

"Right here. What are you doing out so late?" 

Dawn rolled her eyes. "It's not that late, you know. It's only, like, 11:45." 

He scowled and walked over to her. "That's way too late for you, Little Bit. You know as well as I do how dangerous ole Sunnyhell can be at night." 

Dawn plopped down into one of his chairs and then shifted as the lumpy surface poked at her. "You sound as bad as Buffy."

He pulled out some beer from the fridge and flipped off the top. "Well, she's right, you know. What if you'd gotten attacked by some beastie on the way over here? Haven't you learned anything?" 

She pulled out a couple of sharpened pieces of wood from inside her jacket. "Don't worry, it's cool. I brought some stakes with me." 

"Oh, I get it. You stake one vampire and you get all cocky. Stakes don't work against everything. You make one mistake and that's it, you're a goner."

"Look, Spike, if you had a phone or something, I'd call instead of sneaking….." 

"You snuck out! I knew it! Right, that's it, then. You and I are going back home." Spike hurriedly tugged on his coat. Buffy was bound to be back by now. He could use the excuse about returning Dawn as an excuse to see her, talk to her. 

Dawn jumped up. "I just thought you'd like to know we're going to be gone this weekend. Buffy's taking me to L.A. to see Angel." 

Spike halted, feelings of hurt and anger surfacing in him. "What the hell is she going to see Peaches for?"

Dawn settled down again, secretly pleased that she'd managed to rattle him. "She thought it was time he found out about me. He doesn't have the fake memories of me growing up in Sunnydale that the monks gave everybody here. Plus she's probably still in love with him."

Spike threw up his hands in frustration. "Christ! I don't get it. What the hell does she see in that Irish haggis she doesn't see in me?" 

Dawn shrugged. "I don't know. It can't just be a soul. I mean, all humans have souls and lots of them are complete buttholes. Maybe it's because he was nice to her and her friends." 

Spike snorted. "Rot. Angel barely paid attention to the Scoobies. He only had eyes for Buffy the whole time he was in Sunnydale."

"Sort of like you, huh?" Dawn shot back. She smirked when he glowered at her. "You know I'm right. You don't care about the others. That's why you're always calling them names. And every time you're with me, it's always 'Where's Buffy?' 'What's Buffy doing? 'Is she avoiding me?' You only hang around because of Buffy." 

"If that's true, how come I stayed in this hellhole the whole time your sister was dead, eh? Answer that."

"You stayed so you could keep whomping on demons. And because you promised Buffy you'd take care of me. Otherwise, you would have split like Angel did." 

Spike pounced on that admission. "You see! That proves I'm the better man. I stayed with Buffy when the pillock just ran out on her. If he loved her as much as he said, why'd he leave?"

"I don't know. He told Buffy something about having to move on, blah blah blah. I don't really get it and I don't think she does either. All I know is she cried for nights after he left when she thought nobody could hear her, and when he called her just after she came back, she tore out of here as fast as she could. I don't know if you love her more than he does. I just think she still loves him—even if she doesn't talk about it."

Spike hesitated and then walked towards the crypt door. "Come on," he said gruffly. "Let's get you home."

At the Hyperion, news of Buffy's impending arrival was a source of much heated discussion. "Talk about your weird coincidences. We're talking about her one day and the next thing you know, she's asking to come visit. I swear it's like she's got some secret kind of radar," Cordelia babbled. Then she frowned. "Why's she coming back so soon, anyway? We just got rid of her."

"That's not very nice, Cordelia. Maybe she just misses Angel," Fred timidly rejoined. 

"Well, of course she misses Angel. I just don't see why she has to stay here. There are plenty of other hotels in Los Angeles she could stay in. There's no need for her to come marching in here. I mean, we are trying to run a business."

"Yes, Cordelia, I'm sure Buffy would get in the way of the hordes of customers we have running through here on a daily basis," Wesley dryly commented. He glanced over at Angel who'd been staring sightlessly out of the window for several minutes. "Angel, did she give any indication of _why_ she wanted to see you again so soon after her recent visit?" 

The brooding vampire shifted impatiently. "For the last time, Wes, no. All she said was that it was important. That and she wanted me to meet her little sister."

Cordelia contemplated that fact for a moment. "Yeah, now _that's_ really weird. Of course, this is Sunnydale we're talking about, a town that makes Roswell look like Pasadena. Still, it's just bizarre to think that Buffy has a little sister who doesn't really exist except as fiction created by some whacked-out monks."

Wesley pursed his lips, his Watcher's curiosity undeniably aroused. "Quite. It's enough to make you question the very nature of human existence." 

"No, I was just wondering if she shares Buffy's questionable dress taste or whether these monks managed to give her an actual sense of style."

Gunn and Wes exchanged significant looks. "That's our Cordy. Always thinking over the deep questions in the universe." 

"Obviously, Gunn. Her stint at Angel Investigations has definitely broadened her outlook on life."

"So, Angel, where are you going to put Buffy up? Ah mean, what room's she gonna be in? You'll probably want her next to you, Ah suppose," Fred hinted. 

She was unprepared for the vehement 'NO!' that came from everybody. Angel hastened to explain. "Look, Fred, I—that is, we—think it's best if Buffy stayed as far from me as possible." 

"How about Peoria?" Cordelia muttered. 

Fred frowned and then her brow cleared in apparent understanding. "Oh, Ah get it. You don't want her to see Connor just yet. But, Angel, you can't hide him from her forever. The first time he cries…"

"That's not exactly the problem, Fred," Wesley interrupted. "Angel's curse means that if he ever experiences one moment of happiness, he'll lose his soul." 

"That's right, and that'll mean we're stuck with Angelus again. Only this time we'd probably have to stake him to keep him from eating the baby," Cordelia finished brightly. 

Gunn nodded. "I get the feeling that would kinda put a crimp in Buffy's whole weekend."

Fred wore a look of puzzlement. "Ah don't understand. You think just seeing Buffy would make Angel that happy?" Then the light dawned. "Ooooooooh, Ah get it. You don't want her getting too close." 

Angel stalked off as if the subject was embarrassing him. "That's right, Fred. I'm just trying to…remove the temptation."

"My thoughts exactly! So why don't we just tell Buffy to stay at one of Los Angeles's many fine two-star hotels just within driving distance." Noting everybody's disapproving stares, Cordelia threw up her hands. "Okay, fine. But if she gets groiny with Mr. Tall, Dark and Cursed here, and he decides to use our jugulars as straws, don't say I didn't warn you." 

"We won't," they chorused.

Lorne came down the stairs, dusting off his hands. "Angel, I've picked out a couple of lovely rooms for the two young ladies. They needed a little airing out and new bed sheets but other than that they're fine. They've got plenty of eastern exposure—so you won't be tempted to make any early morning calls."

Angel visibly reined in his annoyance. "Guys, I appreciate your concern. I promise I'll be careful around Buffy. But this isn't a social call. If Buffy says she has something important she wants to discuss, chances are that's exactly it. There's isn't going to be any…fraternizing."

"If all she wanted to do was talk, there's always e-mail," Cordelia grumbled. 

Fred tilted her head. "Ah'm just wondering what that sister of hers is like."

TBC


	3. Destiny's Child

The sister was bouncing up and down in the seat with excitement. Last night she'd spent a great deal of time in Spike's company. Not that he'd wanted to keep her out late, it was just that the avoidance spell had him wandering about in circles, unable to get anywhere close to the Summers' house. They'd also encountered a couple of monsters that took him a while to dispatch. When Dawn recognized the effects of the spell, she'd waited until he was distracted by the demons and left as quickly as possible. 

Privately, she'd been starting to regret telling him about the proposed trip to Los Angeles. The blonde vampire might take it into his head to stir up trouble. Still, with the avoidance spell in place, he couldn't get anywhere near Buffy. How much harm could he do?

Buffy was excited too—and considerably nervous. She'd tried to sound Angel out on the phone as to any major changes in his life, but he'd avoided mentioning a baby. So what was he going to do with the kid—hide it under a floorboard the whole time she was there? He had warned her about a demon named Lorne (and what kind of name was _that_ for a demon, anyway?) that was staying at the hotel. He'd assured her that she'd like him. She wondered what kind of demon was so likeable and what it was doing shacked up at the hotel.

When Buffy parked across the street, Dawn craned her neck out the window. "Wow, it's big. He owns all this?" 

"Actually, I think he just leases it, Dawn." 

Her sister nodded in approval. "Cool. It looks really classy. It's too bad we can't stay here permanently." Dawn brightened, "Hey, Buffy, do you think we could…" 

"Give up patrolling the Hellmouth, move away from our friends and stay near a vampire who might lose his soul and rip us to shreds? Absolutely not. This is just supposed to be a carefree weekend, totally free from….caring or whatever."

Buffy pushed open the hotel doors while hefting both bags effortlessly in one hand. "Hello? Anybody home?" 

There was no answer at first, then a brunette bespectacled girl came stumbling out from behind the desk. "Hi! Welcome to Angel…oh, you're Buffy. You remember me, rahght? I'm Fred." 

Buffy held out her hand which Fred pumped just a little too enthusiastically. The last time she'd been at the Hyperion she'd barely caught a glimpse of the girl, what with her compulsive tendency to hide in her room and under the furniture. She pulled her hand from Fred's too-tight grip and said, "Sure, I remember you. This is my sister, Dawn. Dawn, Fred."

"Hi, there! It's so good to meet you. Is it true you were created by monks? 'Cause Ah must say, for guys who never knew the touch of a woman, they got all the details rahght," Fred gushed.

Buffy's and Dawn's mouths dropped open. Buffy knew something of Fred's history but Angel had been sketchy on the details. Not that she'd been paying attention. She'd been too upset about her sexual tussle with Spike. Now she wondered if this girl were mentally unbalanced. She hadn't met anyone so thoughtlessly outspoken since Anya and…

Cordelia came wandering out of Wesley's office holding a damp rag to her forehead. "Fred? I thought you were getting me an aspirin?" She paused at seeing Buffy in the lobby. "Oh, Buffy? I didn't know…look, you'll have to excuse me if I'm not my usual perky self. I've just had a vision and these things take the stuffing right out of me." 

She slumped onto one of the lobby couches while Fred scrambled under the front desk counter, finally emerging with a bottle of aspirin. "Wait a minute. I'll get a glass of water." 

Cordelia waved a weary hand. "Don't bother. I'll just eat them dry." Buffy watched in concern as Cordelia twisted off the cap, shook three tablets into her hand and popped them all in rapid succession. Her eyes fluttered shut and then she re-opened them with an obvious effort. "You must be Dawn. I'm Cordelia, vision girl, if you haven't guessed." 

Dawn waved feebly. "Actually, we've already met." 

Cordelia blinked. "We have? Oh right, monk spell."

There was an awkward silence, then Fred grabbed at their bags, grunting at the weight. "If you'll follow me, Ah'll show you to your rooms." 

Cordelia protested, "Fred, we may be staying in a hotel, but you don't have to provide valet service. Buffy has all that Slayer strength. I'm sure she can carry her own bags." With that final statement, Cordelia's head dropped back onto the couch. She stretched out and in moments was fast asleep.

The other three women tiptoed from the lobby. "The visions really take a lot out of her. Otherwise I'm sure she would have been a lot more polite," Fred whispered. 

Buffy smirked. "I remember Cordelia from Sunnydale. This is _way_ more polite than she ever got back there." 

Fred appeared surprised at this news. "Oh. Well, if you say so. She doesn't talk about Sunnydale much except to mention some of the odd things that used to happen there." Buffy remained silent. She wasn't in the mood to trade stories just then. In one corner of her mind, she recalled it was broad daylight outside. Where was Angel? Was he in the sewers tracking some monster? She couldn't sense him through their mystical bond—if he was out, where was the baby? And when was someone going to introduce her to _him?_

Dawn squealed in delight in being shown her room and then tried to regain typical teenage indifference. "Cool. Is there a minibar?" She laughed at Buffy's expression. "Relax, Buffy. I didn't come here to drink, I came to shop. Hey, what's this?" She walked over to a door near her and opened it. "Great! It's another room." She peered around. "That's funny. It's the same as this one."

"And here's your room, Buffy." Fred pointed through the door. 

Dawn began to protest. "No way! I thought I was getting my own room!" 

"You are. This is a suite. The door opens between the two rooms. We just thought since you were sisters, you'd want to be close to each other." 

Dawn swung around and plopped onto her bed. "We're not that close," she muttered. 

Buffy ignored her and smiled gratefully at Fred. "It's a neat setup, Fred. Thanks for being so thoughtful." 

Fred gave a broad grin, obviously pleased at the praise. "You're welcome." She started as if she'd remembered something important and gave a hurried flip of her hand. "Well, Ah'll just leave the two of you to get settled in. See you later. Sing out if you need anything." She turned and practically ran back downstairs.

Dawn stared after Fred's rapidly retreating figure. "Wow. Nervous much? What's up with her?" 

Buffy said, "The way Angel tells it, she was a slave in some alternate dimension and lived in a cave for five years."

"Oh." Dawn nodded as if this was the most natural explanation in the world. She sat on the edge of Buffy's bed and bounced experimentally a few times. "So…you want to tell me what is you came to see Angel about?"

Buffy hesitated. The dream she'd experienced had been—intense, for lack of a better word. But it wasn't something she wanted to discuss with Dawn. "It's kinda private, Dawn. I can only really talk about it with Angel."

"Sure, whatever." Dawn tried to hide her hurt. God, she was sick of Buffy treating her like a child. Her older sister had dragged her all the way to the big city and wouldn't tell her why. Fine. Two could play at that game. She just wouldn't tell Buffy about her late-night conversation with Spike.

She got up and stomped back into her room. "I'm going to ask Fred if there's a key to this door. Let me know when you want to go shopping." She slammed the door sharply and Buffy heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe her first reunion with Angel should be in private. She got up abruptly and moved softly to the door leading to the hallway. She wanted to take a quiet look around and see if she could find Angel. No, if she wanted to be honest, she wanted to see if she could find that baby.

She walked carefully down the corridor, all the while listening for any noise downstairs. When she reached Angel's door, she grasped the knob and twisted. Damn! It was locked. There was no way she could get in without leaving an obvious sign of her entry. She decided to resist the enticement presented and see if she could get something to eat.

Buffy came quietly down the stairs and heard someone softly singing in the kitchen. When she stepped in the door, she saw Fred's back turned towards her, rocking gently back and forth in an all-too-familiar rhythm. "Rock-a-bye baby, on the treetop……" 

"Boy or girl?" Buffy asked. Fred stopped with an audible squeak and swung around. The baby she was cuddling began to fuss. Buffy stepped over to it with what she hoped was an innocent expression on her face. "It's really cute. Well? Is it a boy or a girl?"

Fred stammered, "Uh, uh, it, it's a boy." 

"What's his name?" 

"Connor." 

Buffy appeared to digest that. "Connor. That's an unusual name. It's Gaelic for 'wise' isn't it? May I?" Fred placed Connor in Buffy's outstretched arms with obvious reluctance. Buffy was silently grateful she'd looked up the name on Willow's laptop before taking off for L.A. Gaelic meant Irish. Angel was Irish. The suspicions that revelation had aroused had been bouncing around in her mind ever since then. She did her best to keep her tone light and disinterested. "How old is he?" 

"Only a couple of weeks." 

Buffy mused, "He can't be yours then. You weren't pregnant when I was here last and neither was Cordelia. Whose baby is it?" She cooed at the baby but kept one eye trained on the fidgety woman in front of her. Something told her Fred was a terrible liar. If she tried lying to a direct question, Buffy was sure she'd catch her at it.

"Well, that's kind of a long story. Maybe I'd better let Angel tell you about it." 

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "What's so long about it? Just give me the Cliff Notes version. This baby belongs to—insert Mother's and Father's names here." Buffy gazed at her in expectation as Fred started to turn red in the face. 

Suddenly there were voices in the lobby. "Fred, hey, Fred, where are you? She didn't just run off, did she?" 

"Maybe she's hiding in her room again." Buffy recognized Wesley's and Gunn's voices. A moment later, the ex-Watcher appeared in the kitchen doorway, stopping short in surprise at the sight of Buffy cradling the infant. 

Buffy gave him a broad beatific smile without a single ounce of sincerity behind it. "Hello, Wesley. Fred and I were just talking about the baby. She was going to tell me who the parents are—I think. But she seems to be having trouble. Maybe you can help her out."

Wesley stared in obviously mounting consternation as Gunn bumped into him from behind. "Yo, Wes, why you blocking the entrance like a doorstop? Is Fred…..oh." He looked over Wesley's shoulder at Buffy while Fred tried to make surreptitiously frantic shushing motions behind her back. 

"Hi. I remember you. Gunn, right?" 

"Yeah, that's right. And you're Buffy." 

"Is Angel with you? This tiny baby evidently has a BIG story behind it and supposedly only Angel can fill me in on it. Where is he?"

Gunn exchanged looks with everybody else in the room. The baby must have sensed the tension because he began to squirm and then wail. Buffy jiggled him up and down and then rolled her eyes at the others. "Isn't anybody going to say anything?"

"Hey, guys, what's everybody looking at?" Angel appeared behind Gunn and froze like everybody else. "Buffy."

Buffy gave him another brilliant smile. "Angel. Is there something you want to tell me?"

Spike'd been frantic over losing Dawn, wondering if another demon had snatched her while his back was turned. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he'd finally broken down and called the house. Buffy's sleepy voice had informed him that, yes, Dawn was home and, yes, she was safely tucked into bed. He'd started to tear into her about letting her sister wander around Sunnydale at night but she'd abruptly hung up on him. Subsequent calls had only met with a busy signal. 

Now he was streaking on his motorcycle towards L.A. The others didn't need him around the Hellmouth but he was going to be damned if he'd just let Peaches have Buffy all to himself. He had the vial of demon blood tucked away safely into an inside pocket. He didn't take too long to make his decision since he had to be in Los Angeles before dawn. He also wanted to get to stake out the Hyperion before Buffy arrived. That would enable him to see her without her seeing him.

[Sure and then what? She's here to see Angel not you. You're definitely a fifth wheel in this arrangement, you dumb wanker.] Spike growled softly to himself. If he showed up on the doorstep with blood in hand, that would convince her he was sincere about changing. [And if that doesn't win her over, what will you do then?] It was the old arguments. Maybe he ought to find out what she was doing at the hotel first.

Pulling up a couple of blocks from the Hyperion, he grudgingly conceded the place was damned impressive. He had to admit it, the pillock always did like to live in style.

__

"Angel has friends, a job, steady income and owns an entire building with heating and proper plumbing. Spike has his leather coat, items he picked up from the city dump and his crypt. That's what he has to give Buffy? A hole in the ground? I think she's had enough of that."

Anya's scathing words came back to haunt him. What _did_ he have to offer Buffy that made him the better choice over Angel?

Thanks to the money Melissa had given him, he could afford a hotel, too. Well, a hotel room, anyway. He'd chosen the closest one; money had been no object. He needed to keep Buffy within range. [Great. You were stalking her in Sunnydale and now you're stalking her in L.A. Well, at least some things don't change.]

Kicking up the motorcycle stand, he resettled into the seat and drove back to his hotel. It would be dawn soon and he needed to spend the day planning his next move.

"You're telling me this is Darla's baby." 

Wesley nodded in response to Buffy's flat statement. "That's correct. She showed up here a few weeks ago quite pregnant and wanted Angel to help her through it, as it were." 

Buffy gave Angel a hard stare. "This is the same Darla you staked over four-and-a-half years ago, right? She came back as a human, resurrected by the good people at that law firm—what was the name?"

"Wolfram & Hart," Fred threw in. 

"The same people who hired Faith to kill Angel," Wesley muttered. 

"I remember. Okay, they brought her back so that she could turn Angel evil again. How did they expect her to do that, exactly?" 

Angel hurriedly answered that one. "They brought her back with the disease that was killing her when she'd been human so many centuries ago."

Cordelia spoke without a trace of sympathy. "Syphilis. Yep, that was our Darla. Turns out she was a prostitute in the old days. Guess old habits die hard. She couldn't even tell us who the father was. It could be any number of guys—even Lindsey." 

Dawn piped up, "Who's Lindsey?" 

Gunn snorted. "He's one of the sharks who used to work for Wolfram & Hart. He had a big old crush on Darla. He probably boned her when she was human." 

"Yes, that's right. The pregnancy might have carried over to her vampire state." Wesley stated that as if the idea had just occurred to him. 

Buffy looked at Angel out of the corner of her eye. The whole story sounded extremely plausible but a little too good to be true. She pressed on with her questioning. "What does this have to do with turning you evil? And how did she become a vampire again?" Buffy's eyes narrowed as something occurred to her. "Angel, you didn't….."

"No!" 

"No way!" 

"Absolutely not!" they all shouted in turn. 

Angel said, "They did want me to save her by turning her into a vampire again. It was all part of their plan to make me Angelus by teaming me up with Darla the way we had been in the past. But I wouldn't do it. So Lindsey rounded up Drusilla and she did the job instead."

"Wait a minute. Drusilla makes an appearance in this story?" Buffy turned to Dawn. "I wonder if that was before or after she showed up in Sunnydale last year."

Angel's back stiffened. "She was in Sunnydale last year? Doing what?" 

"Doing what she does best—she rode into town on a train and killed everybody on board. It was loud, attention-getting, sloppy slaughter. I think it was her way of trying to wheedle herself back into Spike's good graces after she dumped him. It turned out to be an emotionally embarrassing night for everybody involved—especially Spike since he ended up losing three women in one go." Buffy shook her head impatiently. "It's not really important. Now back to your story. Darla becomes a vampire again, finds out she's pregnant and hunts down Angel. Why didn't she turn to this Lindsey guy?"

Cordelia said, "Well, he sorta quit Wolfram & Hart and took off for parts unknown. We haven't seen him since. And if he knows what's good for him, he'll stay the hell out of Dodge." 

Dawn peeked at the baby nestled in Angel's arms. "So out of all the guys she knew, she decided to lay this baby at Angel's door. Guess she must have thought you were a sucker for a damsel-in-distress scenario." 

Buffy frowned at Dawn's choice of words. She wanted to hear the end to this story. "So where's Darla now? Why are you taking care of this kid without her? She take off, too?"

"She staked herself," Angel replied quietly.

Buffy gaped, stunned speechless. Of all the answers she'd expected, this was the last she'd thought she'd hear. "What? Why?"

Angel stared down at Connor's face. "Somehow, whatever magic had helped bring the child into existence started breaking down. Darla's vampire body couldn't provide any more sustenance for the baby. She knew it would die if it stayed in her body any longer. So she staked herself and the child was born amidst her ashes."

"A bit extreme, don't you think? I mean, hadn't she ever heard of a caesarean?" Dawn quipped. She fidgeted when the others stared at her. "I'm just saying."

"We were in a rather tough situation. Other people had gotten wind of the birth and wanted to get hold of the baby for themselves. The one time we got Darla into a hospital, we were attacked by a holy order of vampires who wanted to take the baby and decorate the room with our insides," Gunn told her.

"Holy order of vampires? Now there's some words I never thought I'd hear in the same sentence. So Darla stakes herself and you wind up with the kid." Buffy gazed wistfully at the bundle in Angel's arms. "It's crazy. You left me so I could have a normal life, my so-called normal boyfriend left me after sleazing around at night in the arms of vampire sluts and then I die—while you come to L.A. and get a baby. Life is just loaded with irony. Somewhere the gods are laughing and one of them is a crazy blonde Hellgod who wears designer outfits." Buffy's shoulders sagged while an uncomfortable silence filled the lobby. Dawn hugged her awkwardly while Angel tried to think of something to say to ease Buffy's obvious misery.

Just then, Dawn lifted her head and glanced toward the stairs. Her squeak of alarm caused Buffy to spin around while Connor woke up and started to cry again. Lorne paused in surprise as everybody jumped, staring wildly in his direction.

"Well, hello to you too, Miss. I take it Angel didn't mention me?" 

Buffy recovered first. "Oh, you must be the demon Angel said was staying here. In all the mess of packing, I sorta forget to tell you, Dawn."

The host fluttered his hands in dismissal. "It's no big, sweetie. And I prefer Lorne to 'demon,' thank you." He peered speculatively at Buffy. "So you're the young lady who's got Angel all hot and bothered. Pleased to meet you at last." He held out one green hand which Buffy stared at before shaking. Lorne leaned over and whispered, "I can't wait to hear you sing."

Buffy jerked her hand away and clenched her teeth. "Sing? Why do you want to hear me _sing?_" 

Lorne raised his brows. "It's what I do, sweetie. I read people's innermost feelings and learn something about their futures. But only when they sing." 

Dawn shrank behind her older sister while Buffy eyed him nervously. "You wouldn't be in the market for a child bride, would you? Because we've been through that and Dawn's just not interested." 

Lorne blinked and then spoke slowly, "Oooooooookay. That's either a non sequitor or a really fascinating story I haven't heard yet. Care to tell ole Lorne the details?"

Buffy thought about it briefly—the singing-and-dancing spell that had led to her first kiss with Spike, beginning the whole doomed affair with him—and shuddered. "No thanks. Done the sing-and-tell bit. It wasn't pretty. I really don't want to relive it."

The Host shrugged. "Suit yourself, babe." He glanced over at Angel who was trying to hush the crying baby. "Hey, Ange, how about letting me take him for a bit?" Angel handed over Connor to Lorne who promptly began crooning, _"Goodnight, my angel, time to close your eyes and save these questions for another day. I think I know what you've been asking me…."_

Connor's cries died away to happy gurglings and then quiet yawning. In moments, he was fast asleep. He carried the baby upstairs while Buffy stared after him in astonishment.

"So Buffy, what did you and Dawn want to do this weekend?" 

Buffy tore her eyes away from Lorne's retreating figure with an effort. "Huh? Oh, uh, Dawn wanted to go shopping in some of L.A.'s finer malls." 

Dawn perked up at once. "Yeah, I so totally need new clothes. I've had this dress like forever."

Cordelia gave a big grin. "Let me just grab my purse and we girls can hit the town." Buffy tried to catch Angel's eye. She really needed to speak to him and this was the perfect opportunity to get Dawn out of the way. 

Angel quickly picked up his cue. "Actually, Wesley and I had some research to do about a major prophecy and we could really use Buffy's help." 

Wesley blinked in confusion. "We do?" Angel glared at him. "Oh, yes, we do. Quite. Um, it's about that…thing with the horns and the steel claws." 

Gunn picked up the thread. "Yeah, and he's supposed to hang out in lower L.A. We need to start hitting the books." Buffy threw them a tiny smile. 

But Cordelia was oblivious to their byplay. "What prophecy? How important can it be? Look, if there were anything going on of major importance, the Powers That Be would have sent me another mind-blowing, skull-crushing vision and since I'm not getting one….."

"I'm giving you the day off, Cordelia."

Cordelia gaped at Wesley. "What? You are?" 

He nodded vigorously, knowing that would be the only way to get rid of her. "Absolutely. I know how difficult these visions can be and you definitely need to relax. So take Dawn and Fred with you and enjoy yourselves." 

Cordelia didn't need to be told twice. "Angel! Keys!" The vampire tossed them to her and she sped out the lobby door with the two other females in tow.

There was an awkward silence after the others left that no one seemed to want to disturb. Then Gunn and Wesley scrambled to exit. "You two probably have a great deal of catching up to do, so we'll just leave you alone." 

Gunn hastily amended, "Yeah, but we'll be close by in case you need us for….anything. Just give a shout out, okay?"

After they left, Buffy smirked at Angel. "Gosh, not subtle, are they? Don't they trust you to behave?"

Angel shook his head, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "I think they're afraid I'll just jump you and start tearing off your clothes." 

Buffy gave a mechanical nod. "You mean like last time," she said without thinking.

Angel stilled and Buffy's eyes flew to his face, realizing what she'd just said. Although his face maintained its usual blank impassivity, she knew at once that she'd been right. "Oh my god. It's true. It really happened, didn't it?"

"Buffy, I don't know…." 

"Don't. Don't you _dare_ lie to me! You—you were human. I had a dream about it in Sunnydale, only it wasn't like any dream I'd ever had. This was vivid, in full-blown technicolor like those visions of your past the Three sent me. Somehow you were human and then you weren't. You had humanity and you just threw it away. Why? How could you do that?"

Angel turned away, unwilling to bear the sight of her pain and anger. She darted in front of him. She wasn't going to allow him to escape her with evasions and excuses. "Come on, Angel. Tell me what happened. And why I apparently didn't remember it until last night."

He took an unnecessary breath. "Buffy, if you had a dream about this, then you know what happened." 

She clenched her fists as if restraining herself from hitting him hard. "I got the part where we had sex on a kitchen table." His eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "I could feel your heart beating. And I figured out that the Mohra blood had something to do with it. What I don't know is what happened before or after it. So spill it, Angel."

"You came here to L.A. to visit your father." She waved her hand impatiently. "Right. You remember that part. You also remember the Mohra coming through the window and my smashing the jewel in its forehead with a clock. But in another….reality, I didn't know what it was or how to kill it. I stabbed it and we both tracked it into the sewers. It was daylight so you went to the Long Bar on the beach to find it and I stayed below. It attacked me from behind, it wounded me and I killed it. Or so I thought. Anyway, I wounded it badly and some of its blood mixed with my own. It made me human. For a whole day."

Unconsciously Buffy had moved to the lobby couch and sank into it, her eyes locked on his face. "And we were together? For that entire day?" He didn't move or answer. She closed her eyes and then they flew open. "Obviously something happened to undo all that. What?"

"The demon wasn't dead. It regenerated itself. I wanted to see if I could take it on my own without endangering your life in any way. But it was too much for me. It'd gotten bigger and stronger and it would have killed me, but you came to my rescue. Doyle had given me the clue to killing it, you broke the jewel in its forehead with a mace and that finished it off."

"So then what happened? If I killed the bad guy, how did you become a vampire again?" 

He started to stride restlessly up and down. This was the part that was going to be difficult; he knew that from previous experience. "After that disastrous outing fighting evil in a mortal body, I knew there was no way I could do it and protect the innocent. So I went to the Oracles—they were my conduits to the Powers before they were killed—and asked them to change me back. They turned back time to before the Mohra first attacked and I killed it before its blood made me human."

"And by doing that, you erased an entire day as if it never happened. Did you consult me before you went to the Oracles? Or is this a decision you made on your own, like the time you left Sunnydale?"

"I was afraid that if I saw you again, I wouldn't be able to go through with it."

Buffy exploded in anger. "God, Angel, what is it with you!?! Why are you always making these life-altering decisions without asking me? Did it occur to you that we could have worked things out, that we might have been able to keep fighting together even with you as a human? I mean, I'd been battling the forces of evil with Giles, Xander and Willow back when they were just ordinary humans. You think they ever let that stand in their way? Do you think I did? What makes you so damn special that you have to be some sort of superhero in order to save the world?"

"Buffy, we've had this conversation before even if you don't remember it. I'm not the one that's special. You are. I did it to save you."

Buffy laughed, a harsh and unpleasant sound. "Well, funny it didn't turn out that way, did it? Angel, I've got a very short lifespan. And after dying twice, you got to figure my luck's running out. And you thought that you could save my life by making bargains with these unseen Powers? It's pretty clear from where I stand that the best-laid plans of mice and men don't mean crap where _they're_ concerned. So why couldn't you just stick with what you had?" 

She slumped back into the couch. "You know, Melissa was determined to get her humanity back. She fought for it tooth and nail. I just wish you'd put up half her fight."

Angel stared at her in confusion. "Who's Melissa?" 

She looked up at him wearily. "I didn't mention her? No, I guess I didn't. She was a vampire when she came to me. She said she wanted to be human. She was a minion for that Onegin I told you about. He called up a Mohra to kill me, I kicked its ass and got her the blood. She used it and became human again. That was the last I saw of her."

Angel's mind reeled at the revelation suddenly presented to him. It must have been this Melissa who sent him the blood. But why?

"Buffy, did you ever mention me to this vampire?" 

She wrinkled her brows. "Of course I did. I'd remembered seeing the Mohra in your office, though I only got a glimpse of it before you killed it. I told her you were the one who gave me the information. She wanted me to thank you. Guess I forgot to do that." She gave him a tight humorless smile. "Why? Is it important?"

"No. I just wondered if she ever came to L.A. to look for me. I guess she wasn't that grateful if she couldn't be bothered to thank me." But Angel realized that the former vampire _had_ thanked him. Buffy must have told her of their ill-fated love affair and she had taken it into her head to play matchmaker. He also realized that she'd kept Buffy ignorant of her act. Otherwise the blonde Slayer would have asked him about the bottle secreted away in his nightstand drawer.

So now he knew who had sent the gift and why. It changed nothing. He broke out of his reverie to find Buffy glaring at him with suspiciously bright eyes.

"Boy, I really enjoy these little visits of ours, Angel. I'm always learning something about you that really pisses me off. Maybe it's because you're a man or maybe it's because you're over two hundred years old, but you obviously feel that you always have to protect me by making these big decisions all by yourself. Makes me wonder if you treat your co-workers like this."

"He does, actually. It can be rather infuriating," Wesley commented wryly. He'd entered the room just in time to hear Buffy's last statements. 

Angel glared at him. "Wesley. What happened to giving us some time alone?" 

Wesley spoke to Buffy. "I just got a call from Willow. She said she needs to speak to you urgently."

Buffy went into Wesley's office and picked up the phone. "Willow. What is it?"

Willow's concerned voice came over the line. "Buffy, you okay? Your voice sounds a little strange." 

Buffy blinked fiercely, determined not to cry. "I'm just fine, thanks for asking. Angel and I were talking over old times. What's the matter? Wesley said it was urgent."

"It is. After you left, I decided to use the scrying mirror to keep tabs on Spike. It didn't show him in his crypt but in a hotel room. Buffy, Spike is in L.A."

Buffy shouted, "WHAT?!?! Oh great, that's all I need, the dyed wonder himself dogging my heels. When is he going to get the message that he isn't wanted?" She paused, struggling to get her irritation and anger under control. "You're sure the avoidance spell is still working?"

"Absolutely. He can't come near you. But I didn't cast the spell on Dawn so he can still haunt her if he wants." 

"Oh, he'll definitely want. He'll get close to me anyway he can, even if that means sucking up to my little sister. What I want to know is how he found out where I was going. I only decided to come to L.A. last night and I didn't tell anyone except…." Buffy's jaw tightened as the truth hit her. "Dawn—she must have told him. That brat!" she fumed. 

"Now, Buffy, don't do anything rash. Dawn probably had a good reason for telling Spike."

"Such as?"

"Uh, um, well, okay, I can't think of one off the top of my head. But while you were…gone this summer, she spent a lot of time with him. I guess she got in the habit of talking with him. And he did take care of her just like he promised. Since you've come back, she just hasn't fallen back as quickly into the old routine as you'd like. Spike's just—familiar, that's all."

Buffy sat tiredly on the edge of Wesley's desk. "He's familiar, all right. A familiar pain in the ass. Thanks for the heads up, Wills. I don't think I'll let Dawn know I know. I came up to L.A. to have an enjoyable weekend with her. I won't let Spike spoil that."

"How is Angel, by the way?" 

"Funny you should ask…."

TBC


	4. Rescue

Spike lay on his bed in the hotel room and stared at the clock. He briefly considered asking room service to send up another bottle of the high-quality vodka he'd been drinking but decided he'd probably had enough. He didn't want his first meeting with Buffy in L.A. to be clouded by the fumes of alcohol. Not too much alcohol, anyway. He'd also been chain-smoking endlessly since he'd gotten up. 

It was only a few short hours to sunset but the time seemed to drag interminably. He never used to be like this. Time was, he'd sleep all day through and wake up only minutes before sunset. His vampiric senses would tell him unerringly when the sun was disappearing from the sky. But lately he'd taken to listening for Buffy's footsteps, Buffy's heartbeat, Buffy's voice. Like a siren's call, those things had pulled him out of his undead slumbers more surely than the track of the sun across the sky. The many weeks she'd avoided him were that harder to endure than he'd ever admit.

Well, there was going to be no avoiding him this time. He'd march right up to the steps of that stinking hotel and confront her and that wanker Angel and….and then what? 

[Right, Spike, let's set up this little scenario, shall we? There Angel will be with his patented soulful aren't-I-the-great-suffering-ponce looks in his grand hotel with over one-hundred-plus rooms, his band of Merry Men backing him up and there you'll be with what? A bouquet of roses? You're not going to win her that way. Git.]

There it was, that nagging inner voice once more chipping away at his self esteem. But it did have a point. If he was going to present himself as the better man, he had to get Buffy onto his own turf. That would give him a tactical advantage. The question was how.

He glanced at the clock—another two hours to sunset. He shook his head and lit another cigarette.

"Buffy, don't you just love these shoes? They are so cute! And I got Dawn the perfect bag to accessorize with them. You should see the little jacket she got in aquamarine..." Buffy had been listening to Cordelia, Fred and Dawn prattle on about their shopping spree for the last half hour. Actually, she'd only been half-listening. Her patience and her interest had run out at about the same time. Still she did her best to cover her boredom.

"…then Cordelia took us out for lattes. Ah thought the flavor was a little yucky so Ah had iced tea instead. There's this place that has over twenty flavors of tea, including something called Persimmon Chicory, if you can believe it. So what did you and Angel do all day?"

Buffy blinked at Fred's abrupt change of subject but recovered quickly. "Hmm? Oh, nothing much. Looked in on Connor, read over some old manuscripts with Wesley. He wanted me to tell him everything I could remember about Glory. He's really fascinated about the fact that I faced down the bunch of jerks the Watcher's Council sent over from England to 'evaluate' my performance as a Slayer. Well, not so much fascinated as tickled pink. Do the English get tickled? And, if they do, is it pink?"

"They do if they're Wesley," Cordelia commented while rummaging through another shopping bag for more store-bought goodies. "So what's happening in dear old Sunnydale? Dawn tells me Xander's getting married to some ex-demon girl—what's her name? Anya?"

Buffy nodded, curious as to how Cordelia took this news. The seer tried on another pair of shoes, inspecting them critically. "Well, I guess she's really the best he could do, considering the fact that he's living on a Hellmouth and normal women were always in short supply." She brightened as a thought occurred to her. "Do you think she'll have me as a bridesmaid? Because I've got a perfect little outfit that I'm just dying to wear."

Buffy, Fred and Dawn exchanged amused glances. "Ah don't think so, Cordelia. Bridesmaids are traditionally among the bride's friends and she's the one who picks out the dresses." 

Dawn chimed in, "That's right and they're usually some hideous color like lime green or lavender."

"I know _that_ but you said she's been a demon for eleven hundred years or so. How is she to know human customs in the business of weddings? I'm sure if you guys gloss over the details, she'll be none the wiser." 

"Forget it, Cordelia. She's been pouring over wedding magazines and making plans for weeks now. Don't even bother trying to trip her up on the details." 

Buffy cast a warning look at Dawn. "Hang on, Dawn, we don't even know if Anya and Xander are going to be inviting anybody from here." She turned back to Cordelia. "No offense but we know you guys must have a busy schedule, what with fighting evil, dealing with your visions—not to mention the fact that we couldn't invite Angel. I mean, the service _is_ taking place in the daytime. You guys wouldn't want to come without him, right?"

"Mr. Broody? Of course not! We would so miss his presence at the ceremony. What would we do without him there to suck the energy right out of the room?" 

The other three women giggled, though Buffy tried to maintain a stern expression. "It's not his fault if Angel is socially challenged. He probably doesn't get invited to weddings a lot."

"When he did, he probably ate all the guests." Fred's blunt statement threw a momentary damper on the conversation. 

Then Dawn, in an attempt to get the talk rolling again, asked, "Do you think she'll remember to throw the bouquet? That's my favorite part."

"Dawn, you're way too young to be thinking about getting married, so what do you care?" 

Dawn huffed with exaggerated patience. "I know that, Buffy. It's just so much fun watching other women scrambling for it." This time the silence was of a different nature as the women got lost in their private thoughts.

Cordelia said dreamily, "I used to think I'd marry a stockbroker or at least an…..AHHHHH!" Cordelia clutched her head, collapsing to the floor. Fred dropped down beside her as the other two stared in shock. Buffy was the first to recover.

"Dawn, get a glass of water. Fred, is there a bottle of…." 

Fred nodded, holding onto Cordelia as she thrashed on the floor. "Yeah, I think Angel keeps some in his room.""

Buffy raced down the hall and rapped on Angel's door. "Angel! Wake up!" she whispered harshly. She hoped his sharp hearing would pick up on her voice. She didn't want to yell and wake up Connor.

Angel pulled the door open. "Buffy, what is it?" 

She pushed her way past him, continuing to speak in a whisper. "Where's your medicine cabinet?" 

He looked after her in confusion. "I don't have a medicine cabinet. Vampires don't get sick, remember?" 

"Well, you're working with human colleagues, one of who gets skull-thumping visions."

"Cordelia's having a vision?" Angel threw on a robe; Buffy realized he must have just woken up. 

She nodded and scanned the room. Then she knelt and yanked open the nightstand drawer. "Do you have anything in here? Fred said you had aspirin."

Angel darted across the room. "Buffy, wait!" But it was too late. Lying in the drawer next to numerous bottles of aspirin lay the bottle of Mohra blood. Angel pushed the drawer shut while Buffy sat back and glared at him, white-faced and tight-lipped with fury. "Buffy, look, I can…." 

"Explain? Yeah, I'll bet you can. But it'll have to wait. Cordelia needs help." She pulled the drawer open again and took out one of the aspirin bottles. She exited the room without another word or a backward look. Angel hesitated a moment then slowly walked after her.

He found the four of them perched on Dawn's hotel bed as Cordelia sipped at the water. "You need to get out to a warehouse on Bellflower Boulevard and Carson Street. I saw a man with a shark. That's where they took him." 

Angel glanced at Fred who gave him a puzzled shrug. "Cordelia, are you sure? What would a shark be doing on dry land?" 

The seer rolled her eyes then winced as if even that simple movement gave her pain. "No, I mean a shark in a business suit. He's there with a whole lot of nasty demons with him. They were beating the crap out of some blonde in a leather coat."

"Spike!" Buffy and Dawn both yelled at once. 

Fred looked more baffled than ever. "Spike? That vampire you told me about who was able to hit you? What's he doing in L.A.?" 

"I'll give you two guesses," Buffy muttered grimly.

Angel asked, "Buffy, how'd he know you were coming here?" 

Buffy said nothing but the look she directed at Dawn spoke volumes. "Okay, I may have said something to him about the trip but I didn't know he would follow you." 

Buffy heaved an exasperated sigh. "Really, Dawn, you had _no_ clue what he would do? What part of 'obsessed stalker' do you not get?"

Cordelia stretched herself back gingerly on Dawn's bed and closed her eyes. "I can't believe the Powers That Be would send me a vision about the chipped beef that is Spike. Can't we just ignore it until after they kill him?" 

"Works for me," Buffy replied brightly.

"Buffy, how can you say that? After everything he's done for you?" Dawn protested. 

"I know, Dawn, he's done a fine job of protecting _you._ But whenever he's around me, it's all pathetic attempts at affection and constant comments on the level of 'Buffy, I love you' and 'Buffy, a man can change' and 'Come on, Slayer, you want me and you know it' crap! And now I try to get away for one lousy weekend and once again I trip over little Sparky."

"Sparky?" Angel's lips twitched. "Sounds like one of Xander's attempts at wit." 

Buffy grinned back at him. "It is. Though since Spike slept with a golem, he's going with new ones like 'John Boy' and 'Jed Clampett.' " Then she remembered she was angry with him and her eyes hardened.

Cordelia's eyes flew open when she heard that. "A golem? He slept with that thing Willow conjured up? He just has the worst choice in girlfriends, doesn't he?" 

"And here we were thinking that Xander was the king of bad relationships," Buffy deadpanned. She smiled innocently at the glare Cordelia threw her way.

Dawn snapped, "Could we save the picking-on-Spikefest for later? He's in trouble, guys, and the vision means you have to rescue him, right?" 

Buffy sighed again and turned to Cordelia. "You said you saw a shark in a suit? I think I know who we're up against. Spike owed some guy forty Siamese kittens to pay off a debt." 

Fred blinked. "Kittens?" 

"Yeah, I don't get it, either, although Anya says they're quite a demon delicacy." 

Cordelia shuddered and stretched onto the bed again. "All right, I think I've heard all I need to know about the eating habits of demons. You guys go if you're going."

"I can't," Buffy stated flatly. Seeing Dawn opening her mouth to protest again, she hastily amended, "It's not because I don't want to help—though I really don't—it's that I literally can't. Before I left Sunnydale, I had Willow cast an avoidance spell on me. Spike can't get anywhere near me."

"Does the spell prevent you from getting near him?" Fred asked. 

Buffy paused; that thought hadn't occurred to her. "You know, I never asked. It was just meant to keep Spike at arm's length. I'm not sure how it works from my end."

"It's not your problem, anyway, Buffy. It's ours. Cordelia gets these visions, then Wesley, Gunn and I go out and take care of things. You're not meant to be involved." Buffy nodded reluctantly. Now that she wasn't obligated to go help Spike, she felt a curious reluctance to let Angel run off and help him without her. She wanted to fight by his side just as they used to before he left Sunnydale over two-and-a-half years ago. God, had it really been that long?

She blurted out, "The last time I faced this guy, he was with a bunch of vampires. They were pretty much pushovers, just your basic miniony types." 

Cordelia shook her head then winced at another flare of pain. "I didn't see any other vampires in my vision. These were big demons, huge and muscle-bound. There looked to be about eight or nine, I'm not sure."

Buffy bounced up and brushed past Angel. "Let's go, then." 

Angel ran after her as she pelted downstairs. "Where are you going, Buffy? I told you we can handle it." 

She walked over to the weapons cabinet and started pulling out some sharp swords, carefully testing the edges. "I know. And if it were just a few demons or run-of-the-mill vamps, I'd be perfectly happy to let you deal with this on your own. But you heard what Cordelia said. And these guys are here because of Spike and he's here because of me. Besides, I might as well help while I'm here."

"I thought you came to L.A. to relax." 

"So did I but this is definitely not turning out to be the weekend I planned. And I'm not staying here worrying about what may happen to you when I can help." 

"I don't want you risking your life needlessly…"

"Newsflash, Angel! That's what I do! And it's never needless when you're protecting the ones you—care about. There you go, trying to play the mother hen again. Connor is the baby here—not me. You know, Spike may be a romantic lapdog but at least he accepts me for who I am…and I never thought I'd be defending Spike to you, of all people." She swept her eyes over him from head to toe. "Don't you think you should be changing now?"

"Changing what? Oh, good lord." Wesley had emerged from his office and stopped short, appalled at the sight of Angel in a robe with Buffy. 

Angel was suddenly aware of the picture he must present. "Wesley, this isn't what it looks like."

Buffy smothered a giggle. "It's okay, Wesley. Cordelia's had a vision." 

"Is she all right?" 

Buffy had finally settled on a couple of swords and an impressive axe. "She'll be fine. Fred and Dawn are taking care of her. There are several demons holding Spike in a warehouse. One of them's a loan shark."

"Did you say 'loan shark,' Buffy?" 

"That's right. Spike owes him some Siamese kittens." Wesley blinked for a moment. "It's a demon thing. Don't ask." 

"I…see. Well, here's a rather radical thought, Angel. Instead of rushing off to fight, why don't we simply pay them money?"

Buffy hefted the axe. "Oddly enough, I suggested that to Shark Guy when I first met him in Sunnydale. But, nope, he's really got a jones for kittens." 

Wesley straightened his shoulders. "Right. I'll get Gunn, pack some more weapons and Angel, you can—change."

Minutes later, Angel rushed out to the car, halting in irritation at the sight of Buffy firmly ensconced in the backseat. "I thought I told you to stay out of this." 

Buffy raised her eyebrows at him. "Yeah, I told the others. We had a good laugh at that." 

Angel said, "Wesley…" 

"Angel, you want her out, _you_ try removing her." The vampire hesitated then slid into the seat beside Buffy with an ill grace.

The drive to the warehouse began in taut silence with everyone aware of the tension from the backseat. "So. Were you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?" At her hostile look, a look of comprehension came over his face. "Oh. You mean…yes, I guess I would have told you eventually." 

"When? After I'd died again?" 

Angel stared ahead in mounting frustration. "Look, Buffy, I've given you my reasons for not using it, so what would have been the point of telling you about it?" 

"Aha! So you _weren't_ going to tell me! I should have known!"

Gunn looked back over the front seat. "What are you two talking about?" 

Angel said, "Buffy found out about the blood." 

Gunn shrank back. "Oh crap." He turned to Wesley who was determined to remain out of the debate. "And they're going into this _now?_ Maybe we should have left them home to fight this out and handled this on our own."

Angel rapped out, "No! Buffy, we are NOT discussing this now. We've got a mission and we need to stay focused. I knew it was a mistake taking you along." 

She glared at him, "I thought that you didn't want me because you were afraid I'd get hurt, not because you were ducking an argument." 

"Buffy, I talked this over with Wes, Gunn, Cordy and Fred…" 

"Oh, so you can talk about it with them but not me, is that it?!" 

"Buffy, I just thought my becoming human would have a more profound impact on them since you weren't really in my life anymore."

"Not in your life? NOT IN YOUR LIFE!?!? Since you left Sunnydale, I've come to see you no less than five times. I know that doesn't seem like a lot given the timespan and they weren't always the happiest of moments but I thought they meant something to you. That I still meant something to you."

Angel paused, trying to get his feelings under control. "Buffy, you know what you mean to me. That's why I can't do this again. And I don't want to talk about this NOW."

"When do we talk about this, Angel? When will we ever talk about this?"

"You heard the man, Slayer, you're not talking about this now." 

"SHUT UP!" they yelled at him. 

Abruptly, Wesley jammed his foot on the brake causing the others to lurch forward. "Now see here! We are on a mission! I don't care about your petty squabbles. Cordelia got a painful vision about someone in peril and we are going to rescue him. So just put aside your quarrel and keep focused on the task at hand. Do I make myself clear?"

He glared back and forth at the two in the backseat. They gaped at him and then muttered reluctant agreements under their breaths. The rest of the journey was made in the same grim silence that began it.

A splash of cold water in his face roused him back to awareness. Moments later he realized it was holy water as his face began to smoke and burn. "BLOODY HELL! You wankers!" 

One of the demons—a Fyarl, one of several—grunted at him, "Hold your tongue, vampire, or I'll pull it out." 

Spike sneered at him through one swollen eye. "Why, what are you going to do with it? You can barely use the one you've got."

A soft hissing voice came from the shadows. "That's what I've always liked about you, Mr. Spike, your marvelous sense of humor under adverse situations. It's always so refreshing." 

Spike shifted uneasily. Now that he had time to assess the situation, he realized he was bound hand and foot in a heavy metal chair under a bright light. Squinting past the circle of illumination, he couldn't see much, but he recognized those sibilant tones. Seconds after, the toothy visage of Mr. Sharky loomed into view. "Oh, it's you. Look, I told you I'd get you your kittens…"

"Yeah, that's what you said and I was foolish enough to believe you. But then I hear that you've left town and taken up residence in a four-star hotel in L.A. and I start to wonder. You've obviously come into cash but instead of buying and paying me my fifty kittens…" 

"Hang on! It was only forty!" 

"True, but what with interest and my having to replace those vampire minions of mine you and that Slayer dusted, you owe me considerably more than that." The Shark turned to one of the demons who was busily fishing through the pockets of Spike's duster. "Anything of interest?" The demon threw out a couple of knives, a metal lighter, a crumpled pack of smokes and the vial of demon blood onto a nearby table. The Shark picked up the latter in one flipper. "And what have we here?" 

If Spike's heart had still been beating, it would have lurched in his chest. "It's a present from some vampire bint I knew. It's got nothing but sentimental value." 

The Shark tossed the vial idly from one fin to the other while Spike struggled to keep his face expressionless. If Sharky broke that vial, Spike silently swore he'd find a way to make him pay. Finally the Shark shrugged and stuck the vial into an inside pocket of his jacket. "Maybe after we sell his coat and whatever's in this little tube, we can get enough to buy one of you boys lunch—at McDonald's!" The others gave dutiful grunts and wheezes of laughter.

Sharky pulled a long, thin shaft of wood from under his jacket and waved it under Spike's nose. "Do you have any idea what this is, my boy?" 

Spike's face took on a bored look. "I'd say it was a toothpick but judging by your breath you never use one of those."

"Funny, Spike, funny to the last. This wooden shaft, which would be perilous enough on its own to your kind, is coated with a very special solution known as the Killer of the Dead. It's concocted specifically to kill vampires. Only it doesn't kill you quickly like staking or decapitation. Oh no. First, there's weakness, fever, hallucinations, racking pain in the joints. It's all extremely painful and death takes hours. Do you see where I'm going with this, Spike?"

"Not a clue. Enlighten me."

"According to the stories, the only cure for this poison is draining the blood of a Slayer. So first I jab you with the poison, you get that enormous store of cash you've come into and buy me my kittens and then you kill that Slayer girlfriend of yours."

Spike stared at him in disbelief. "That's it? THAT'S your plan? You dumb tosser, I was going to pay you your damn kittens, that's why I came to L.A. in the first place. You honestly think I could get quality, purebred Siamese in that soddin' little burg? And you can just forget about me getting the Slayer, she ain't my girlfriend."

"Spike, Spike, Spike, you're such a liar. You were fighting together like you'd been doing it for years. She'll come to you in your hour of need and then…"

"And then, she's going to stomp on you like a sharkskin boot," Buffy quipped as the four of them came charging through the warehouse door. The Fyarl demons snarled and charged as they approached the vampire in the chair.

"STOP!" the shark roared. "There isn't going to be another knockdown, drag-out fight scene, not here, boys, not while I've got this." He waggled the stick for emphasis. 

Buffy snorted in amusement. "You're threatening us with a stick? First kittens, now this. What's next? A gale of sneezing powder? Listen, Sharky Boy…"

"Please, call me Ray." 

Buffy forged on. "Whatever. It's going to take more than a stick to impress me." 

"Not even a stick coated with the Killer of the Dead?" Ray watched in satisfaction as Buffy's expression changed to apprehension. "So you know what that is. Good, saves me from having to explain it twice. Come near us and I infect your boyfriend with it and you can either watch him die or die yourself saving him."

Buffy yelled, "HE IS NOT MY BOYFRIEND!" Then she hurled her sword through the air and into Ray's chest. He stared in shock at the hilt protruding from his front and fell over onto the floor.

Pandemonium broke out as the Fyarls resumed their attack. But what these demons had in size and strength, they were severely lacking in intelligence and strategy. The well-honed team of Angel Investigations and one extremely pissed-off Slayer were more than a match for them. 

In the aftermath of the battle, Angel and the others began gingerly brushing off blood and Fyarl mucous off their clothes. Finally giving it up as a task beyond the hope of any but the most determined dry cleaner, Angel walked over to Spike and began slicing through his bonds. "About time you got here. What kept you, you git?"

"Good to see you too, Sparky," Angel smirked. Just then one of the beaten Fyarls pulled the poisoned wood from Ray's lifeless fin and jabbed it viciously into Angel's thigh. He gasped from the flaring agony and gave the demon a savage kick to the head. As Spike wriggled out of the last of his bindings, Angel gritted his teeth, pulling the pointed implement out of his leg and threw it aside. "Buffy….." he whispered just before his legs gave way, toppling him to the floor.

Buffy and Wesley ran to Angel's side. Gunn said, "Yo, Wes, give me the keys. I'll drive." When the others didn't move, he snapped, "What are you guys waiting for?"

"It's the poison, Gunn," Wesley told him quietly. "There's only one cure for it." 

Spike shrugged into his duster, replacing the items the demon had taken from it. Lighting one of his cigarettes, he squinted at the other vampire and the white-faced Slayer crouched by his side. "You mean that stuff ole Ray was spouting is true? That stuff kills vampires? Tough break, that."

The others didn't react to him at all. "Angel, listen to me. You're not going to die. You know what you have to do." 

Wesley protested, "Buffy, you can't do this, not again. You barely survived the first time. You can't take being drained twice in one lifetime."

Spike's eyes narrowed. "Wait a bleeding minute! You mean she's done this before?" His mind raced back. He'd seen the scar on Buffy's throat but had always assumed that Angel had marked her during their one night of passion. Now it seemed as if another story lay behind it.

"When my Slayer—Faith—turned rogue, she shot Angel with an arrow coated with this selfsame poison. Buffy let Angel drain her nearly to the point of death to save him." Wesley paused, his mouth tightening; his failure to keep Faith in line still haunted him after all this time.

"Mohra blood." The whisper came from Angel. Buffy's eyes flew to his face. He gestured feebly at his coat. Buffy grabbed at the lapel and pulled it open. 

Gunn peered over Wesley's shoulder. "You telling us you brought that stuff with you, Angel? Why, you change your mind about using it?"

Angel shook his head slowly. Beads of sweat were starting to form on his brow. "It was in case….one of you got hurt." Buffy's hand rummaged inside his coat and then she yanked it out with a sharp cry. Her fingertips were bleeding and the others could see glints of light coming from the glass shards embedded in them. 

Gunn swore. "The bottle must have gotten broken during the fight." 

Wesley reached out towards Buffy. "I'm so sorry…" 

She knocked his hand away. "Save it. He's not going to die." She drew back one fist and slugged Angel as hard as she could in the face. "Angel, change. You have to! 

Gunn grabbed at her. "Hold up, girl! Have you lost your mind?" 

Wesley pulled him back. "Gunn, stop. I think I know what she's doing."

Buffy continued to pummel Angel steadily. In one detached corner of his mind, Spike admired the efficiency of the blows. There was no senseless flailing—just a deliberate barrage of solid swings connecting with Angel's face. His cheekbone cracked open, one eye was bloodied and lip split. These were all minor injuries and should have healed in seconds. But they remained there, marring that beautiful face, mute testimony to the poison already coursing through his system.

Buffy's blows were starting to lose their focus as Angel shut his eyes and his body grew limp. "Angel, please change. You have to change! Please—do it for me." She was using both fists now and her swings were landing on his arms, chest and head as she struggled to bring his vampiric face to the fore. She couldn't rouse him. 

Wesley whispered, "I don't understand. It took hours last time—why is it working so rapidly now?" 

Gunn replied, "Maybe it's because he was already infected. His body can't take another dose."

Buffy fell weeping onto his chest. "Angel, don't die. I couldn't stand it. Please come back. You have to try. This world is hell. I couldn't bear to live without you in it."

Spike felt an awful chill go through him. She meant it. He'd heard that same note of despair in her voice when she'd first revealed to him how she'd been torn from heaven; he'd felt it trembling through her tiny frame when she'd kissed him so fiercely in the Bronze after Giles left.

Swiftly, before he had a chance to change his mind, he walked over to Sharky's carcass and started going through his pockets. He found what he was looking for and nudged Wesley in the shoulder. "Here. Take it," he said roughly. 

Wesley groped blindly for the object, then glanced down at what lay in his hand. His eyes widened. "My God. Is this—?" 

"Yeah, present from a lady. Now give it to him quick before he croaks." He turned away abruptly and strode out of the warehouse.

Spike watched, hidden from the shadows, as the quartet came out minutes after him. Even in the dim light, he could see the wonder and joy on Buffy's face as she touched Angel's chest repeatedly as if she couldn't believe it. Closing his eyes, he could distinctly pick up all four heartbeats. He continued watching, motionless, as they all piled into the car and drove away.

It hadn't taken him long to return to the hotel; he'd simply hot-wired a car and driven back. He'd packed the few belongings he'd brought with him. Casting one last look around to see if he'd missed anything, he shouldered the bag and opened the hotel door…

…To find Buffy standing there with an upraised fist. "Well, look who's here. How'd you find me?"

"Angel does work for an investigative agency, you know. It's kinda his job."

He shut the door and started walking towards the elevators. "So what are you doing here? Got bored with your human boytoy already?"

Buffy stared at him hard for a minute as if just seeing him for the first time. "Wesley told me what you did. Where did you get a bottle of Mohra blood?"

"Same source as Angel's, I 'spect. Melissa sent it to me." Buffy blinked in surprise. In her anger at Angel's deception, she hadn't thought to ask the obvious question of where he'd gotten his gift.

"Well, I can understand why she sent it to _him._ But why did she give you…" She stopped and her face flamed red as she realized. "In that case, why didn't you use it? Angel gave me the usual story about his remaining a vampire to save me and protect the world. What was your reason?"

Spike snorted in disgust. "Maybe Little Miss Hair Gel secretly wanted to become human, but I _like_ being a vampire. Living forever, trouncing the hell out of demon ass, going where I like, doing what I please—who'd want to give that up?"

"Why'd you keep the blood with you then? Why not just get rid of it? And why bring it with you to L.A.?" By this time they were in front of the elevator doors. 

Spike attempted a nonchalant pose. "I knew Peaches wanted to become human. Thought maybe I could sell it to him." 

Buffy smirked in disbelief. "Is that your final answer?" He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort only to stiffen in surprise as she planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. 

"Thanks, Spike. That was—" The elevator doors opened and she jumped back from him as other passengers got out. Whatever she had to say was lost as she stepped inside. The last sight he had was of her smiling slightly, a dreamy distant look in her eyes, as the doors slid shut. 

Spike stood there, frozen in place, as he tried to get himself under control. 

"Goodbye, Buffy," he whispered.

TBC


End file.
